


"I Do Not Like Thee, Doctor Fell"

by ReadWithDetermination



Category: Underfell - Fandom, Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Underfell (Undertale), Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Canon-Typical Violence, Flowey (Undertale) Redemption, Flowey Has Issues (Undertale), Flowey Needs a Chill Pill, Frisk (Undertale) Is a Sweetheart, Frisk (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Gen, Gender-Neutral Frisk (Undertale), Minor Injuries, Pacifist Frisk (Undertale), Protective Flowey, Sans (Undertale) Needs a Hug, Underfell Sans, Underfell Sans IS Undertale Sans, Undertale Neutral Route, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-07
Updated: 2020-05-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:15:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24048793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ReadWithDetermination/pseuds/ReadWithDetermination
Summary: Frisk's good intentions have somehow twisted the Underground into a dark and dangerous place.  Now, with an injured ankle, they ponder how their actions led their friends to fall so far, and how that has affected the two monsters that actually know about the RESETs.(Made for sheewolf85 & freshouttaparsnips' challenge, "Nursery Rhyme Community Project")
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 24
Collections: Nursery Rhyme Community Project





	"I Do Not Like Thee, Doctor Fell"

**Author's Note:**

> It's fairly easy to make little vignettes that happen right in the middle of the action. Anyways, challenge was to write a oneshot between 500-5,000 words with injury/illness as the theme and a nursery rhyme as the title. Saw "Doctor Fell" and thought about writing an Underfell!Gaster fic, but then the idea of Flowey and UF!Sans fussing over an injured Frisk was too amusing to pass up. It turned out a bit more angsty than I had planned, but when you're writing from the perspective of an eight-year-old who goes through what Frisk does, what do you expect?

"I Do Not Like Thee, Doctor Fell"  
\-------------------  
 _I do not like thee, Doctor Fell,  
The reason why - I cannot tell.  
But this I know, and know full well;  
I do not like thee, Doctor Fell._

_\- "I Do Not Like Thee, Doctor Fell" (English nursery rhyme, circa 1680)_

It had been a stupid mistake and one completely avoidable - at least, so Flowey believed.

The yellow flower had been giving Frisk the third degree ever since the human hobbled their way out of the tall grass fields that marked the entrance to Waterfall, although he had, predictably, teared up the moment his steam started to run out. Frisk didn't fault him for it, however, instead choosing to hold the SOULless creature close and let them sob into their dirt-stained sweater. They had both come so very close to being impaled by one of Undyne's spears, and Flowey's tirade had only been sparked from abject terror and desperation. Frisk stroked Flowey's stem as small hiccups erupted from the sniffling flower, trying to comfort their one friend in this corrupted world.

Truthfully, the fall had likely saved their life. Had the rock Frisk stepped on not shifted and caused them to lose their balance, they would not have been able to dodge the spear in time. As it happened, the projectile actually sailed well over their heads and Undyne, in far too much of a hurry as the field quickly headed into the darker parts of the cavernous Underground, had actually run right past them. It was only by quick thinking and masking their own hastened movements with a well-timed "NGAAAAH!" from the irate guardswoman that Frisk and Flowey were able to sneak away relatively unharmed.

That left them with the problem of the moment.

As Flowey's crying died down, he looked up at Frisk and said, "What are we going to do, Frisk? We can't stay here forever! If you want to get home, we'll need to make it past Undyne, but how are we going to do that if you have an injured ankle? We barely got away earlier!"

Frisk patted the flower on the head. Flowey was a lot different than he had been when Frisk first fell into the Underground. The past few RESETs, whenever they finally thought they were going to get through to Asgore, Flowey would show up and finish off the king of all monsters before instigating a fight with the human. Frisk would manage to escape with the help of the other human SOULs and wander back to their former home, remaining there for a few months before inevitably receiving a call from Sans. Each and every time after, Flowey would somehow manage to swipe the dying phone Sans thought he had discarded and speak to them himself. Mostly, it was to let Frisk know that, even though they did everything right, they still screwed everything up for everyone.

And yet, there was always a spark of HOPE among the flower's existential dread.

Flowey finally realized that Frisk wanted to be his friend, too.

Somehow along the way, the hopes and dreams of the other monsters began to resonate within Frisk. Escaping alone the first time and returning to their empty home (their stepmother and only remaining parent, who was always gone on business trips, had never even noticed they were gone) left them feeling as empty as the little apartment. It led them to wish they could change it all, to turn back the clock and have a chance anew, to go and SAVE everyone...

Learning they had the ability to RESET time itself was an incredible shock.

In the end, Frisk's determination to SAVE everyone - _including_ Flowey - had led them to start over again and again.

It had been a noble idea, but one with consequences.

It had started with little things. A certain monster being in a different place than before. A darkening twist to the landscape, with the trees looking more crowded, the walls of the ruins being more mildewy and encrusted with vines, the metal of the CORE all seeming far more rusty than before. A slight change in personality of a familiar face.

Speaking of familiar faces, there was one in particular that seemed to know what Frisk was doing.

Sans seemed nice enough, at first. A bit of a kidder that slipped into darker territory now and then, but nothing Frisk hadn't heard before. Ever since their father abandoned the family, their stepmother began to drink, and the smiley mask she put on sometimes dropped. A few mean words or snarky remarks were nothing when it was sometimes the only attention a child could receive. It's why Frisk knew there was more behind Sans' goofy grin and laidback facade. And who could blame him for wanting to take naps so often? Frisk's stepmother did that when she was home, too, but at least ketchup bottles smelled better than whatever was in that "happy juice".

Oh, he knew of the RESETs, too. Frisk knew that much. He made it vague and would joke about how it felt familiar to see them in the Judgment Hall, and how very deja vu it all felt, but he never came right out and said anything. But over time, his smile began to droop, and Sans would let slip strange remarks that hinted at the same existential dread Flowey once felt. Flowey finally fessed up and told Frisk about his own ability to RESET - or how he had been able to before they came along - and mentioned how Sans had caused him to restart many times over. When asked to elaborate, Flowey merely shuddered and refused to say more, instead turning the conversation back to helping Frisk figure out how to finally break the Barrier so he could experience something new for a change.

In the end, however, even after Flowey stopped fighting them and trying to take the SOULs for himself, Frisk kept screwing up during the fight with Asgore, leaving them to start back over again. Flowey taught them how to SAVE and LOAD, which helped somewhat, but...then it happened.

Maybe it was because Frisk got a little too overwhelmed and tried to reLOAD too many times in succession.

Maybe it was too many RESETs.

Maybe it had something to do with the new monochrome monsters that kept showing up on new timelines, disappearing the moment Frisk finished speaking with them and turned away, sending an eerily empty space back into a lively area where the usual monsters suddenly reappeared where they hadn't been only moments before.

Whatever it was, when Frisk woke up in the Ruins _this_ time, NOTHING was the way they remembered it.

The friendly faces were gone, and now the overly enthusiastic monsters that almost hurt them during their excited magical bursts were intentionally trying to take Frisk down for the crime of _existing_. Sure, some of them were keen at first to turn Frisk in when they first met, but most were just happy to make a new friend in the end. Now, they all seemed to have taken on Flowey's wrath, and Flowey?

Well, with the world turned on its head, it was understandable that Flowey would have changed, too.

At least he wanted to help Frisk rather than hurt them now.

Anything to make this new corrupted Undergound - this "Under _fell_ " as Flowey put it - go away.

That was when Frisk got an idea.

Using the base of the tree as leverage, they pushed themselves up, wrapped their arms around the boot they were using to house their flower friend, and set off away from the entrance of Waterfall.

Flowey looked up at them as they limped through the snow. "Where are you going? Back to the Ruins? You know the former Queen isn't in her right mind anymore."

Frisk told Flowey they weren't headed to the Ruins.

"But where else can you go? You don't have enough gold to stay at the inn," he reminded them. Frisk knew in the past the rabbit monster running the inn would have ended up letting them stay for free anyway, and wasn't so sure they wouldn't now. A lot of monsters might have been more willing to attack a human now, but more than a few seemed to feel guilty upon learning they had been attacking a kid. And the inn rabbit had been kind enough to feed them when they passed through Snowdin earlier, so maybe they would be willing to help again...?

As they made their way along the snow-covered road, they soon found themselves nearing civilization again. It wasn't until they were almost in front of it that Frisk noticed they were nearing the Skeleton Brothers' house.

It wasn't wise to stop for long, they knew that, but Frisk couldn't help it. Overcome with the ache in their ankle from their injury and the pain in their heart at how harsh their old friends' lives had suddenly become, they took a moment to stare morosely at the once comforting landmark. Now, it looked far more solidly built, the twinkle lights around the door replaced by a few strong floodlights, and there were even a few gouges along the wood siding that were likely the result of several old skirmishes that came too close for comfort.

It was all Frisk could do to suppress the sob they had welling up in their throat as they hugged Flowey's boot tighter.

They missed their friends. Their _old_ friends. They missed the happy-go-lucky Papyrus, his grandiose schemes, and helpful ways. Heck, they _almost_ even missed his spaghetti. If the old Papyrus were here, he would have scooped them up and likely wouldn't have let them leave until they were all bandaged up and good to go. They missed Toriel, who literally fawned over them when they had gotten a papercut on one of her snail books. They missed the old Undyne, the old Alphys, the old—

Frisk's ears perked up as they heard the sound of a door opening.

They turned and looked to see—

"Of course, it's the Smiley Trashbag," Flowey grumbled as he tucked himself low against Frisk's back. From the slithery feeling, he was likely extending his coiled vines in case he had to defend the two of them.

Frisk looked up to see the New Sans looking around surreptitiously, as if trying to see if they had been followed (They hadn't been. Flowey had made sure of that.). He then stuffed his hands into the pocket of his jacket and cocked his head, scowling at them with suspicion.

"why are you back here, kid?" he asked, his voice less of a goofy grumble and more of a gravely growl now. "boss made sure you made it out of snowdin safely. did undyne-?"

For a moment, Frisk forgot they were injured and shifted their weight onto their injured foot. The moment they did, however, pain shot up their leg with such force that they nearly cried out, choosing instead to focus on remaining at least partially upright as they struggled to regain their unsteady balance. To their credit, they managed to keep hold of Flowey's boot the whole time.

Flowey, however, was not nearly so silent.

"Frisk! Frisk, are you okay?" he practically squawked in their ear. Frisk managed to crack a half-smile and patted him on the head. The flower unexpectedly shrank back, his face morphing into a demonic frown as he let out a hiss and stared up at something near the two of them. As Frisk looked up, they saw Sans coming to a stop in front of them. The skeleton's grin, looking more grim than feral now, turned down at the corners slightly as he crouched.

Frisk wasn't expecting the hand that wrapped around their ankle, and the accompanying pain was enough to make them collapse this time.

Instead of hitting the snow, however, they collided with a couple of cloth-padded bony appendages as Sans' arms swiftly moved to catch them.

"stupid kid," he reprimanded them in a harsh whisper that managed to drown out Flowey's second angry hiss, "you had to go and hurt yourself, didn't ya'?"

Instantly, the flower's vines extended and he rose up, his foliage extending until he was bulked up with thorns, his voice dripping with verbal poison. "LeT tHeM gO, yOu SmIlInG pIeCe Of—!"

Ignoring the irate monster, Sans turned on his heel and started heading back toward the house, with Flowey protesting all the way. Frisk, not knowing what was going on or how to react, just froze, their small body stiff in the arms of their former friend-turned-captor.

As Sans kicked the door shut behind him, maneuvering to lock it with one hand, Flowey flared out in all of his monstrous glory.

"WhAt ArE yOu DoInG?!"

With a growl, Sans whirled on him. "i'm helping. or would you rather i let them stay out there and get skewered for free exp?"

That shut Flowey up, at least long enough for Sans to bring Frisk over to the couch. After he sat the child down onto the lumpy cushions, he ignored yet another hiss from Flowey as he walked over to look out of the window. After a careful scan of the outside, he pulled back and drew the curtains to, then returned to Frisk. Flowey did not try to intercede again, instead curling up, thorns retracted, protectively by Frisk's throat and scowling as he watched Sans reach for Frisk's injured ankle. Sans gently tugged up the child's pants' leg and made a thoughtful sound.

"Well?" Flowey asked harshly.

Sans ignored him yet again, choosing instead to murmur, "this might hurt, kid," as he started to unlace their boot. With great care, he eased off the offending piece of leather and strings, causing Frisk to whimper as the movement caused the pain to reignite. The noise startled Flowey into nearly flaring back up, which was only halted when Frisk capped a comforting hand on top of the flower's head, though he winced each time the human flinched.

After a few moments of slightly turning the foot and gentle prodding the now obviously swollen tissue, Sans asked Frisk to wiggle their toes. They did with little effort, relaying they had no pain when he prompted. Sans then asked them to try to move their foot, but the pain in their ankle was too much for them to roll the joint much, though they were able to turn it almost as much as they could normally.

Satisfied, Sans sighed, "well, kid, looks like it isn't broken, but you do have a bit of a sprain. should be easy enough to fix once we get some monster food in ya'." He shoved himself up with a grunt and looked down at the child. "so what happened?"

Frisk told them about running from Undyne and Sans nodded.

"boss is the best when it comes to strategizing out here in snowdin," he said, "but waterfall is undyne's turf. looks like that distraction he set up didn't do as much distractin' as it was s'posed to."

Sans sauntered off toward the kitchen - or at least, Frisk assumed it was the kitchen, as that was where it normally was. Flowey raised up from his defensive coil. "Where are you going?"

Without even looking back, Sans called out, "that's for me to know and you to find out, bud." Then he disappeared into the next room. 

All was silent for about three seconds as Flowey turned to look at Frisk, jerking his head in the direction of the New Sans as his expression read, 'Will you get a load of this guy?'

Suddenly, Flowey's face morphed into one of dawning realization. He whirled around and shrieked loud enough to make Frisk cover their ears. "WAS THAT A FREAKING PUN?!"

The bark of laughter that peeled out from the kitchen was enough to make Flowey let out a groan and collapse onto Frisk's stomach. Frisk couldn't repress the snicker that dared escape. Bemoaning his fate, Flowey lolled his head back and gave them the most piteous look of betrayal and annoyance a flower possibly could convey, which only made Frisk giggle a bit more before patting him on the head again in apology.

"Well, I guess if he was going to kill us by now, he'd have already done it," Flowey finally admitted. Frisk figured that was the truth. Even though Sans had been a lot harsher and rougher around the edges during this timeline, he'd still been about as helpful as usual. At least, he didn't let his brother scoop them up in a butterfly net and haul them to Undyne first thing. Papyrus had lost most of his steam about turning them in after he was informed Frisk was a child, but it took Sans pointing out their striped shirt before Papyrus understood.

(Frisk didn't quite understand why monsters put their children in striped clothing, but they were thankful that their simple wardrobe choice ensured them a certain advantage.)

After a slight bit of indistinct noise rang out from the kitchen, their skeleton host strode back into the living room - this time with a dented cookie tin and a crumpled dish towel. The New Sans knelt by the couch where Frisk's injured ankle was and sat the items to the side, proceeding to open the cookie tin once he was settled. Inside was not cookies, as Frisk might have hoped (they would have preferred a piece of Toriel's butterscotch-cinnamon pie, but cookies were the next best thing), but instead a rudimentary first aid kit. San pulled out a couple of elastic bandages and set them to the side before placing the cookie tin on table.

"probably won't be able to wrap ya' up for a while, seeing how swollen this is," he told Frisk, the scowling knit of his brow bones and slight flare of his now permanently red eyelights making his skeletal grin seem more menacing than reassuring, "but we got 'em for later. i don't want you up and walking on this until they're on, though, got it?"

It was those strange eyelights that made Frisk lower their gaze. The red color was as discomforting as it was familiar, nearly the same vibrant hue as the very SOUL that had been yanked from their own chest into encounters time and time again, and yet somehow slightly darker, dingier, prompting the bitter coppery taste of blood to return like a ghost to their tongue. The color was wrong, so very, very wrong on their formerly goober of a friend, and the normally rounded white eyelights now less like glowing circles of bone and more ominous, phantasmic wisps that wafted within the hollow sockets. 

Being this close, they could see the indentations on his skull and finger bones. Their Sans didn't have many of those, but this version did. They looked at the tiny dips and long jagged grooves, all rounded at the edges and worn down smooth. Was that how scars on bones looked? How did he get so many? Did he have to fight a lot? How many times was he hurt?

It hurt Frisk to know that their RESETing might have caused this. So much about their old friend was just _wrong_. Sans was all white and blue, smooth bones, and punny jokes topped off with the scents of ketchup and what was likely dish soap. This monster - this New Sans - was all red and black, with roughened bones that actually reminded them of real bones and not the silly mental image they once had of a snow-skeleton springing to life from the permanent winter of Snowdin itself. The acrid scent of mustard, sweat, and...chalk? Motor oil? Nail polish remover? Frisk didn't know what all it was, but the scents were _not_ their Sans, the colors were not their Sans, those hands and face and grin were not their Sans and-

And yet, it was.

And it was somehow their fault.

They kept failing to SAVE everyone and they didn't understand how. They tried and tried, and still, they had to be missing something! But each and every time they got to the end, whether Flowey tried to make off with the SOULs, or Asgore wound up taking his own life before they could stop him, or Frisk wound up having to LOAD because an unlucky misstep ended their _own_ life...

They had never been able to SAVE everyone.

The moment tucked the cushion under their injured foot and adjusted the wadded towel - which was bitterly cold from the ice tucked away inside - tears sprang to their eyes. 

They couldn't blame Sans for hating them now. Sans, who every time met them in the Judgment Hall with a mask of seriousness before sending them on their way like a lax parent who was shooing them back to their fun and games, whose whole world had been turned on its head.

And yet, he was still taking the effort to take them in away from being an easy target by the other Underfell monsters and helping fix up their injuries.

Flowey, completely unaware of Frisk's mental dilemma, reared up with another shrieking hiss. "You're hurting them! Stop it!"

The skeleton huffed at the flower, making Flowey behave even more like a feral cat, striking out to grab at the seemingly offending ice pack. Sans immediately snagged the vines, ignoring the thorns that obviously must be biting into his hands and squeezed. "it's gotta be done, weed, or the kid will be in pain longer!" 

As the two argued with one another, Frisk froze, unsure of what to do. The moment they saw the droplets of red magic from punctured bone fall onto the ratty dish towel, the human couldn't hold back their emotions any longer as the the floodgates opened.

Vaguely, they made out Flowey's screechy, "LoOk WhAt YoU dID!"

"what i did?" Sans shot back, clearly offended, "you're the one who just shoved their injured ankle trying to yank off their ice pack!"

"It WaS hUrTiNg ThEm!"

"they were already in pain, you talking piece of crabgrass! i have to ice it or the swelling won't go down!"

"yOu'Re A lOuSy DoCtoR!"

"and you're the weed the mower missed!" Sans said, eliciting a wrathful shriek from Flowey before Frisk could feel rough bones cup their face, turning it up with a fading firmness that felt as though the monster was trying to be gentle but forgot his own strength for a moment. "ignore the florist's reject here," he told Frisk, "did the ice pack hurt that badly? i can take it off but a few minutes of icing your ankle is going to make it feel a lot better. if it bothers you that badly, i can leave it off until i can find you some monster food to heal you up somewhat."

Frisk felt ashamed as they hiccupped, their wet face and regret on full display.

Flowey's shrieking died in a bewildered squawk as Frisk threw their arms around Sans' neck, burying their face into the soft fluff of his fur-lined hood, their tears springing forth anew as they apologized again.

"WhAt aRe YoU dOiNg, FrIsK?!" Flowey yelled, completely baffled by the turn of events.

"I'm so sorry, Sans," Frisk said again. "I never meant for any of this to happen!"

They felt the rumble of a thoughtful noise deep in Sans' chest as much as they heard it. "i highly doubt you meant to twist your ankle," Sans said, "shi- er, mistakes happen."

Frisk shook their head, the fur tickling their nose as they turned their head this way and that.

"Not for my ankle," they said, "for hurting _you_. For hurting you and Papyrus and Mama Toriel and the guard dog monsters...and...and...!"

The words kept coming, and their tears continued to flow. Why had this happened? They hadn't meant for this to happen. They just wanted all of their friends to be happy and free! Was that so much to ask? Why did everything have to change so much? Why couldn't they have noticed it before? How were they even supposed to realize the small differences each time they RESET or LOADed was connected to what they were doing? Were they even connected at all? Was this just some sort of curse?

Why couldn't they do anything RIGHT?!

"frisk."

The hand on the back of their head was familiar. Logically, they knew it was different, but through their thick hair, they couldn't feel the roughed bones. With their face buried in Sans' jacket, they couldn't see the new scars that littered those bones. If they held their breath and stayed perfectly still, they could pretend everything was the same. They could see the memory of how everything once was, of the way the desperately wanted things to go back to the way they were.

Could they go back? Was everything destined to get worse every time?

If they failed this time, what other changes would they find? Would Sans be missing half his head? Heck, for all they knew, the next time, the world might be entirely empty!

The comforting strokes over their hair admittedly helped to calm Frisk down. Flowey finally stopped his confused screeching and shrank back to his normal size, his thorns retracted as his vines returned to its long loopy stem, coiling up by Frisk's shoulder with his head leaned against theirs and one soft petal draped over their scalp.

"C'mon, Frisk, please stop crying," the flower said.

Frisk hiccupped, sniffling as their outburst started to die away. For several moments, Sans said nothing else, letting the flower ramble in his own reluctantly apologetic way to make Frisk feel better - or at least, end the tears that actually made Flowey uncomfortable around now. 

Finally-

"frisk. look at me, kid."

Very reluctantly, Frisk looked up, blinking their bleary eyes. Somehow, the grim mask had softened, leaving the New Sans to look a lot less scary. Instead, he just look very tired - probably as tired as Frisk felt.

"kid, i've seen what you've done," Sans said, "and, despite whatever the weed here has done-"

Flowey made a strange noise but said nothing.

"-i know you're a good one. i'm not sure what happened, but i don't hate ya'. i dunno what happened in those past timelines for things to wind up like they are now, and i won't deny they've been hard, but i do know one thing..."

Unexpectedly, Sans pulled Frisk into a tight hug (possibly _too_ tightly if Flowey's squeak was anything to go by).

"...you're one determined little kid, so if anybody can fix this mess, it'll be you."

He let out a sigh.

"i'm sorry, too."

That was surprising. Frisk struggled within the skeleton's grasp so they could look back up at him again.

"you're just a kid. even an adult with good intentions still makes mistakes, and you got yourself stuck with this power nobody should have. you shouldn't be expected to take on the burden of freeing all of us, and yet, here you've been trying to do just that. i should've stepped in myself and did something, but i...didn't."

Frisk noticed Sans' eyelights shift toward Flowey for the briefest moment.

"look, i'm not sure how i can help, and maybe it'll be pointless in the end, but if the weed over here is willing to help, then the least i can do is be of some actual assistance."

Frisk was completely unsurprised by Flowey's indignant retort.

With a sniffle, they dried their eyes on their sleeve and tried to smile. "so, let's give this a go, alright? you, me, and the flower. whaddya say?"

A small smile crossed Frisk's lips and they nodded. Sans chuckled and ruffled their hair. "atta kid," he said, finally pulling away and replacing the ice pack on their ankle. "this alright?" Frisk nodded and Sans stood, collecting the remaining parts of the first aid kit. "i'll go get us some grub. i'm thinking grillby's. you can just stay here and rest up that leg, and we'll get 'er bandaged up so you can walk on it later, alright?"

Frisk nodded their approval, but Flowey just crossed the leaves he used as arms in his smaller form.

"I still don't like you, 'Doc'."

Sans' grin turned positively wicked as he rounded on the flower. "feeling's mutual, weed."

"Stop calling me that!"

Sans just chuckled. "whatever you say, weed." And with that, he left the room, leaving Frisk with their sore, cold ankle and a new spark of HOPE.

**Author's Note:**

> ....aaaaand DONE! There's my little contribution to the challenge. Had to add a hopeful ending.
> 
> If you guys want to join the challenge, here's the link:
> 
> <https://sheewolf85.tumblr.com/post/617241831543062528>
> 
> Also, come check out my Tumblr and YouTube for art, stories, and audios!  
> TUMBLR: https://readwithdetermination.tumblr.com/  
> YOUTUBE: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCaQd1Pjqd6plN9Z8EjmvVvg


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